Last Saturday, I woke up and said good morning to our German shepherd, Callie, who lay on her favourite plaid blanket beside our bed, incessantly licking her paws.
It was a habit she picked up on when a cancerous growth began to invade the left side of her mouth a few months ago.
On this morning, she smiled her usual smile, but there were no longer teeth on her left side, just a white substance that looked like ricotta cheese mixed with spinach.
Four hours later I said goodbye for the last time as the vet administered the second shot and she drifted away from us on a blanket she was not familiar with.
She was a 14-year-old dog suffering from arthritis who often tripped down our stairs.
It wasn’t difficult reaching the point where we knew her time had come, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier.
I had never witnessed anything die.
I have seen death before but only after death has done its due.
It was painful to be in the room as she wondered what she was doing there and why this blanket had been so ceremoniously placed on the floor before her.
It was painful waiting 10 minutes as the vet tried to put the IV into her shallow veins, most likely from the cancerous growth blocking her ability to drink water.
It was painful when she came back into the room with a shaved left paw, probably thinking how happy she was to see her family again.
It was painful to watch her limbering body stumble to the ground because we couldn’t calm her enough to lie down before the sedative was administered.
It was painful watching her go motionless and have the vet say calmly, “And she’s gone.”
We left and she stayed, but the pain went on.
I felt I needed to be the rock for my family, but that was painful.
When I watched my other dog, Buckley, eagerly look through our legs for his friend, it was too much.
I feigned stomach issues and blamed it on the tacos we had the night before.
In reality, I needed to be alone to process everything, even for five minutes.
I questioned why we do this. Why we become attached to something that we know will only live a short portion of our lives before we’re at this point once again.
In the moment, your mind goes to that, but there is no truth or logic to that thought.
Callie may have been a bit dim at times, but she had a beautiful personality and a huge heart.
It’s painful because the memories are happy.
That happiness makes the pain worth it.
Sleep well Callie.
